The Art of the Author
by Billie the fourth sage
Summary: You won't find a pairing like this anywhere else. I just thought that these two needed more love. The title's a clue as to whom I'm referring to. The artist and the named author. Just read. Oneshot, AM.


The first time I finished the Princess Tutu season, I thought of a certain pairing. It was sort of random, but these two needed more love. Especially HER. Enjoy, I hope.

* * *

Autor wasn't one to be interested in much of anything, though one day, he noticed something that did exactly that.

At first, it was only a feeling, but he based most of his studies on his intuition. He was only walking, but he felt like someone was watching him.

For the past week, he'd felt it, and sometimes, when he turned quickly to see if anyone was there, he'd see a blur of a person, too quick for him to recognize.

It was unnerving, but Autor decided he had better things to worry about.

He was still attempting to write a story, but he didn't have a shred of power to make his wishes come true.

He admitted long ago that the tree had chosen Fakir, but his pride refused to take the fall and he wrote stories himself.

But they were next to useless.

Now that the story was finished, he was just another person.

He couldn't stand the thought of not being exceptional, but what difference did he have from anyone else anymore?

He still visited the library daily, but there was no difference.

Drosselmeyer's stories stayed unfinished for the safety of the Golden Crown's 'reality' (_What is that really? _Autor once thought)

Another day, and still, Autor felt the depression that blanketed him stay along, that is until he felt it again.

This time, he spotted the culprit: A girl maybe a year or two younger than him ran off as soon as he turned around, and he followed her as fast as he could.

The girl didn't seem to want to be caught; she ran quickly, using the twists and turns in Golden Crown as an advantage.

Autor never lost sight of her, but she seemed to have assumed that, because while Autor hid behind a tree, she stopped running and looked around, breathing deeply when she assumed that she'd lost him.

He finally saw her face, and better reasoning told him to remember that face.

She was somewhat plain, but with sea green hair, and a pair of glasses rested crookedly on the bridge of her nose.

She was catching her breath, then looking around once more, she started away, and as Autor followed her, he realized that she was making her way to the Kinkan academy.

_So she's a student in Golden Crown. _Autor thought as he followed her to the arts section of the school.

He watched her enter a room and close the door, but the windows were covered so he couldn't see what she was doing.

He then decided to wait.

It was nearing twilight when she came out after two and a half hours, and Autor was thoroughly irritated and at the same time wary.

As soon as he was sure she was gone, he sneaked into the room. It was dark, and he struggled to find the switch.

When he found the light, he couldn't believe his eyes.

A wide variety of paintings greeted his sight, different landscapes inside and out of Golden Crown town, people and animals, etc.

Autor's attention then went over to the newer paintings, then the ones that were covered by cloth.

His curiosity got the better of him; so then he checked what was being covered.

He found what confirmed his suspicions. The newest paintings were of him around Kinkan town and the academy.

_Stalker_ was the first word that came to mind, but he decided to investigate more before jumping to conclusions.

Finally he had something to do, something he did best: Investigate.

He looked at the newest painting and saw a name at the bottom.

_Malen_.

He only heard this name now, but it came as a bit of a surprise to him, because, looking at her works, he thought they were marvelous.

Then the door opened.

_Crap. _He thought, nearly dropping one of the charcoal sketches.

"I- I just came back to…. I… sorry!" Malen was fighting the urge to run away, but she didn't want to seem suspicious, especially after he'd found her work.

"What are you apologizing for?" He asked in a sharp tone, making her flinch slightly.

"Umm… I just… The paintings…" She stuttered.

"They are remarkable." Autor said without thinking, but didn't let emotion betray him in his face, putting the sketch down carefully.

Her deep blue eyes looked at him nervously, as if expecting him to get angry.

"Thank you… sorry, but I heard your music before and I thought you were incredible. I mean- your music, I meant…" Malen felt a blush on her cheeks and turned away.

_Oh no, he must think I'm weird. I can't believe he's here… _The flustered artist stepped forward and bowed in apology.

"Your name is Malen, isn't it?" Autor stated.

"Yes…" She replied quickly, but she looked down to her feet, partly in shame.

Autor observed her carefully. There was nothing extraordinary about her, but her paintings portrayed something different.

They seemed to open a door into the girl's soul, which, as far as Autor could understand, was as colorful and beautiful as her paintings.

_Beautiful. _The word brought significance. Autor remembered when he'd fallen in love with the crimson-eyed beauty, Rue. But in truth, he wasn't of any importance at all to her, now that he realized it.

But Malen was something different. When he was looking for a role, he didn't find it in the story, or in Rue, or even in helping Fakir. He found it when he found her.

"Umm… I'm sorry… I made this… I made this for you." She forced out, showing him a package that was wrapped in brown paper.

Autor walked towards her and took it from her hands, and as he opened it, she continued.

"I meant to leave it outside your house…" She explained, still as nervous as ever.

Autor stared at it for a while, then astonishingly, he smiled.

"Malen. I hope we see each other again soon." He said, taking his leave.

It upset the balance in the replica of Drosselmeyer's room, but it didn't matter anymore, really. That one small painting hanging on the wall was more important to Autor than anything.

A smile. His smile. Malen, above all other people, was able to show it. What she'd hoped with all her heart she'd see one day, she painted on a small canvas.

And she did see his smile. She would always remember that he'd smiled for her.

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Okay, it's not the best, plus I was in a hurry cuz I'm not allowed on the computer right now. But it's just... sweet... R&R 


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